


a heart's a heavy burden

by PolzkaDotz



Series: born under a bad sign [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aurors, Confessions, Forced Proximity, Harry Potter AU, Hit Wizards, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sick Fic, forced bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolzkaDotz/pseuds/PolzkaDotz
Summary: Andrew didn't know how his life, which had steadily gone downwards since he was born, could get any worse. But it was trying to. Being bound to his teen-age crush was already bad. Having to stay within distance from him so he wouldn't fucking hallucinate wasn't stellar either.the missing scene from part 1, where they sort of confessed to each other but only one of them ends up remembering it.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: born under a bad sign [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134128
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	a heart's a heavy burden

**Author's Note:**

>   
> It took me a while, but I did it!  
>   
> This was [posted on twitter a while ago](https://twitter.com/polzka_dotz/status/1350755518269313025)! I just couldn’t write this fucking thing in one go, so I succumbed to the nostalgia of posting stories on forums and suddenly it all came out in like… 2 days or something. If you want to read it full of typos everywhere, you can head there. Good luck!  
>   
> title from Diana Wynne Jones’ Howl’s Moving Castle, because I love that disaster of a man and Andrew kinda reminds me of him a little in this fic.  
> 

“... I don’t think I’m going to remember my confessions for a little while. I want to tell you that, sometimes, when the weather was bad, and I simply couldn't see the Snitch, I'd watch you. On the field." Neil got a strange look on his face. “Oh, shit—I’d watch you because even while knowing that you didn't care about the game, you still were so good it was absolutely mesmerising.” Andrew wished he had enough time to truly react to it, but no: as soon as he was done, Neil simply passed out. On Andrew’s bed. 

Andrew didn't know how his life, which had steadily gone downwards since he was born, could get any worse. But it was trying to. Being bound to his teen-age crush was already bad. Having to stay within distance from him so he wouldn't fucking hallucinate wasn't stellar either. 

But now he had this flaming, hot mess of an individual on his bed. Whose body was currently busy trying to rid itself of potion effects—and Andrew had to actively stop himself from thinking about how Neil had been so blasé about the fucking accidental spill and the consequences. 

Because his fucker of a father experiment on his fucking kid, not only on Muggles and Muggleborns. Andrew also had to watch Neil admitting to his… what? Competence kink? About Andrew's Quidditch abilities? Too many innuendos started fighting for Andrew's attention. 

Andrew didn't deserve this. Especially on a fucking empty stomach, that he couldn't do a fucking thing about because he couldn't move away from Neil and it felt massively wrong to levitate him to the kitchen so Andrew could eat. 

Andrew eyed the potion he had been instructed to give to Neil and thought about taking a sip. With a sigh, he decided that was an asshole move. Andrew Accio-ed some pen and paper and looked down at it, annoyed. 

He couldn't ask Nicky to send food, because he would question Andrew about _everything_ that he hadn't told him about his current life situation—or worse, come around to cook and be a fucking nuisance. Aaron would probably send food but it would either be healthy or completely disgusting. 

Kevin was an absolute _no_ right away. Not only was he currently undercover, but Andrew also wouldn’t call him even if he was burning and needed someone to put out the fire. Kevin was his Auror partner. He would definitely make Andrew work, from his own fucking bedroom. 

_Renee_ , Andrew wrote down. He stopped for a second, then simply wrote, s _end food to me_. 

Andrew got up and opened Imke's cage with his wand from the bedroom door, putting an arm up so the owl had a place to land. 

Twenty minutes later, Andrew had in hands a container of the greasiest cheeseburger with fries, and a well-sealed gigantic cup of soda, because Renee knew him that well. He steadily ignored the reply Renee also sent with the food and dug in. Still, his brain was his brain and he only needed a glimpse. 

_Tell me if you need anything else! Hope Neil gets better soon_ , she had written in one of those pens with rainbow ink. Andrew could almost physically feel the energy her beatific smile usually had, even through the message. It was beyond strange. 

The food tasted as good as he expected, and he'd finished in what felt like seconds. Now, he had to think about what the fuck he was going to do about his sleep, and try to forget Neil Josten had ever opened his mouth in Andrew's vicinity. 

A thing that was really fucking hard to accomplish when Neil kept making those snuffling sounds now and then. It wasn't snoring, it was just... Neil. Being his usual fascinating self, even when absolutely out of commission. 

It didn't take long for Andrew to decide he'd sleep on the ground. There was no fucking way he would just… lay in bed with Neil. After he Vanished the evidence of his food, Andrew dragged the bedside table out of the way and levitated the bed so it could be a little closer to the bathroom. 

After he took care of his business, Andrew got his pillow from the bed, something to cover himself with, and laid down. Neil's cats came over to investigate him and they eyed each other for a couple of minutes until Andrew's eyes became too heavy and closed on their own. 

It felt like seconds had passed before he woke with a snap, suddenly on his feet with one of the cats complaining loudly about how sudden his movement had been. Andrew was disoriented for a second until he realized he was feeling that dreadful itch in his throat. 

Shit. He'd forgotten to say his own confession when Neil said his. 

"It's pathetic that I still have a crush on you, even though I should have lost any shroud of respect for you the moment you didn't stop yammering about Quidditch at me, just like when we were still in Hogwarts." 

Andrew clenched his teeth when he was done, eyes closed as he felt the tip of his ears burn. At least Neil wasn't awake to see this. At least this couldn't get any wors— 

“Not all of us can leave behind the childhood obsessions we latched on to forget our shitty lives, Andrew." 

Andrew slowly opened his eyes. Neil had one eye open, staring at Andrew's general place in the room but clearly not seeing anything. Had Neil heard the beginning of Andrew's sentence? How big was the middle finger that the universe was showing to him? 

"Some of us at least tried to find better stuff to obsessed over," Andrew argued back, voice toughened by something he would _not_ name as "fear". 

"Hmmm, maybe," Neil mumbled, stretching himself on Andrew's bed and moaning as his muscles got used for the first time in hours. 

Andrew was starting to think the universe's middle finger had to be as tall as the Ministry's headquarters. 

"What were you obsessed with during school, though? Have you gotten rid of it, oh wise one?" 

Neil didn't wait for a reply. Andrew watched for a few seconds, waiting for Neil to suddenly open his eyes, but nothing happened. Andrew was left feeling relief over the fact that he had confessed something already, otherwise, he would have answered that with too much honesty. 

_You_ , would be his answer to the first question. 

_I thought I had_ , would be the answer for the second. 

The only honesty Andrew allowed himself though was watching Neil for a few seconds, not waiting for anything. Then he felt like he had been creepy enough and tried to sleep. 

* * *

Andrew had never really understood what drew him to Neil like that. 

Well, he knew that Neil was pretty, so there was that. He also gave zero fucks about almost everything and the thing he gave fucks about didn’t interest Andrew at all. Quidditch was initially a way to make himself feel something, several feet in the air and nothing but his tight grip on the broom to keep him there. It didn’t mean anything. 

Still, seeing Neil passionately standing his ground, nagging him about every single aspect of that dreadful farce of a sport—Andrew couldn’t look away. Moth and flame. 

It didn’t help that Neil was a class traitor and felt glee over how many purebloods despised him. His stances never won him any admirers at Hogwarts, though. His father’s shadow cast too big over Neil. Nobody outside of his tiny circle of friends wanted to approach him, fearing he was just as unhinged as his progenitor. 

Well. With one notable exception. 

Andrew laid down on the ground and couldn’t stop—thinking, fidgeting—until one of Neil’s cat’s carefully stepped on his chest. It was Frock, the Tuxedo cat he had named just because Neil hadn’t, and Andrew still called it that because Neil clearly disliked it. 

The truth was, Andrew hated his current situation. Not sleeping on the ground, that was fine. He had slept in worse things when he was still in the system in the U.S., before he received his letter and was shipped away with zero context of what the magical world was. 

However, this whole thing of being bound to what was essentially his high-school crush felt dangerous to Andrew’s future peace of mind. He had already accepted forever ago that Neil existed in his life simply to be _admired_ , not _actively desired_. 

Now though, if Andrew didn’t think about the things he had to tell Neil beforehand—which little piece of himself he had to willingly give up—the curse took something. 

Anything it wanted, as obviously demonstrated by the forced confession it got from him. 

It was a fucking shitty situation to be in, to say the least. 

Frock meowed at Andrew, who pet him with a sigh. He fell asleep like that, mind still trying to spiral into despair while Andrew did his best not to. Thankfully, his sleep was dreamless, void of sudden wake-up calls. 

* * *

The next day brought a lot of boredom for Andrew. He Summoned the cereal box in his cupboard, but ate it dry because just the thought of leaving milk on his floor and it spoiling near him was undesirable, to say the least. 

Every once in a while he would check if Neil was okay, mainly because the only movement Neil did the entire fucking day was in the steady flicker of his eyelids. The cats had moved away from Andrew during the night to (fight) sleep at Neil’s pillow, which was fine. Andrew would have been unhappy if he woke up because the cats were moving near him—or worse, on him. 

Andrew thought about what he had available as entertainment and grimly realized he had nothing. He fed the cats from his bedroom doorway, both of them shooting between his legs like tiny torpedos. For a second, Andrew wished he could knock himself out like Neil, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with his idle mind for so long, but that seemed irresponsible. What if Neil choked on his spit? 

His phone bored him quickly. Not even his trusty Candy Crush saved him. He Summoned the cats’ toys and that kept him going until it was lunchtime which seemed like an okay time to send his letter to Renee asking for lunch. As he wrote though, Andrew couldn't stop worrying about Neil, who hadn’t eaten since… yesterday’s lunchtime? 

The Mediwitch had told him that he was supposed to open Neil’s mouth and drop the potion there and Neil would do the rest but… that felt more than wrong to Andrew. 

By the time Renee had sent his lunch—two falafel and hummus flatbreads from the cursed sandwich place that he refused to pronounce as anything other than _Prat_ —Andrew was feeling like he would truly have to force-feed Neil. 

He wished he could say it was relief that made him almost throw the last couple of bites left of his second sandwich far away when Neil made an awful gasping sound and shot upright on the bed. It would be infinitely better than admitting he had just scared the shit out of him. 

Andrew crushed his sandwich a bit as he watched Neil turn to the bedside table, eyes still closed, and eerily extending his hand straight at the Sustenance potion, downing it without making any expression, even though he had complained that it tasted fucking bad the day before. The whole thing lasted for 10 seconds at most, but Andrew’s heart needed a while longer to stop beating like Andrew was going to face a fucking zombie. Which. Wasn’t technically a _wrong_ description of what had happened. 

Andrew made the brief mistake of remembering _why_ Neil’s body possibly knew how to deal with itself when completely knocked out because of potion overdose and he had to suppress the immediate wave of anger that threatened to drown him. It was useless to waste any emotions on the piece of shit that had been Neil’s father, especially since the fucker was already dead. 

If something freaky were to happen though, Andrew wouldn’t mind ending the motherfucker again. 

As it was, the only thing Andrew had to kill was time. He put a new vial of Potion near Neil. He took a quick shower and, when he came out, he realized an unfamiliar owl was waiting for him, perched on Neil’s feet. Andrew raised an eyebrow at the audacity and went to retrieve the letter attached to its legs. 

_How’s Josten?_ , Wymack asked in it. 

Two words. Two fucking words, with a fucking owl. 

_Breathing. Sleeping,_ Andrew replied and sent Wymack’s owl away, going back to playing with the cats for as long as they showed interest in him, succumbing to boredom when they went away. 

It was a good thing Andrew had spent a lot of time alone when the Wizarding world had accused him of killing Aaron’s mother. Also, Andrew’s brain probably couldn’t get any more unbalanced. 

Before nightfall, while the light inundated the room had a vibrant red hue that made Neil’s hair look like copper, Neil woke up again. He made the same gasping sound but didn’t sit up. This time, Neil had both eyes open, but just a sliver. A peek of iciness on top of a faraway mountain. Andrew detested how effortlessly _pretty_ he was, even when his mouth was slacked open, pink lips dry and cracked to hell, but still so fucking— 

“Once, I saw a pair of idiotic Slytherins saying that you must have been conceived when one of your parents was under the effects of Amortentia. A shitty explanation for why you are so emotionless.” Neil’s voice was loud and dangerous, the voice he used when he was close to violence. Andrew sighed and just let himself think it was hot. “I broke their noses and told them that if they tried to complain to any teacher, I would tell _you_ what they’d said. Even though I knew that was an empty threat since you wouldn’t have done anything to them.” 

There was judgment on Neil’s voice. As if he expected Andrew to care about everything a bunch of snotty-nosed assholes had to say about him. They had no power if Andrew genuinely didn’t care what they had to say. Andrew, on the other hand, had the power of one single glare and a reputation of their own making. 

“You are infuriating,” Andrew told Neil in a dead voice. “The fact that your hero syndrome can be traced so far back is astounding. Do you even have enough space to share a personality with that inside of you?” 

“Sorry, I don’t.” Neil smiled, like the little shit that he was, but whatever emotion he was trying to express was veiled by how stoned he looked. “Between the hero syndrome and the obsessing over Quidditch, I have no room.” 

Andrew wished he had something clever to say, but Neil had the ability to do that to him. He was just so completely _stupid_ that Andrew was constantly speechless near him. Neil just kept smiling, clearly not ready to go back to his coma. 

Andrew sighed, and gave him what he was waiting for. “Watching you going through the process of becoming an actual person, not a mess of abuse that barely held itself together was enthralling.” 

Neil opened his mouth to reply, but the Bond clearly wasn’t happy with what piece of himself Andrew had just thrown away, because it forced Andrew to say, through the itchiness in his throat, “Because I had to do the same thing, at around the same time.” 

Neil hummed thoughtfully while Andrew just wished, once more, for the sweet embrace of death. “I get it, I watched you as much as you watched me back then.” He made a dismissive hand gesture and Andrew could only stare at him. “I never understood why I was so obsessed with you and your playing. It felt different from my obsession with Quidditch... It kept me alive when I wanted to fucking disappear into nothingness.” 

Neil made a pause, seemingly unaware of the fucking bomb he had just dropped on Andrew’s thought process. Neil just… had zero shame? About admitting that he obsessed and kept up a one-sided rivalry? What the fuck was wrong with him? 

Neil raised his head and fully opened his eyes, staring deep at Andrew, for the first time in a while looking like he was truly seeing something. “But… antagonising you, having your attention on me... made me feel alive.” 

Andrew swallowed on absolutely nothing. “What? Do you have a crush on me, Josten?” 

“Oh,” Neil said, looking surprised. He frowned and seemed to be thinking about it hard, even as his eyes started to drop. “I have no idea. You see, I didn’t grow up in the bestest conditions to understand the intricacies of human relations, or something of the sort, I seem to have forgotten what Allison told me daily. So… who knows! I might have a crush on you, and I’d definitely be the last person to realize,” Neil laughed a little,e and Andrew just… watched. Flabbergasted. “It would be a plausible explanation for why I never stopped thinking about you, even now when we eventually work together.” 

“... Will you remember anything from this conversation when the effects of the potion are over?” Andrew asked in a voice that he wished was stronger. 

“It’s honestly a 50/50 chance,” Neil told him with a joyful smile. “Whenever my father felt… experimentatious? Playful? I don’t pretend to understand what went wrong with him during his development. Where was I?” 

“Whenever your father…” 

“Oh, yes. Whenever one of his moods struck, I would either wake up with no memories of what happened in between or would remember almost everything.” Neil shrugged. “Traumatized brains, don’t you agree? If I ask you about these days though, then that probably means I don’t remember. Oh, by the way: sleep on the bed. No husband of mine shall sleep on the floor when there’s a perfectly sized space on this bed.” 

“Are you inviting me to sleep on _my own_ bed? Also, we’re not married.” 

“For who knows how long this Bond will last, yes, we are.” Neil smiled at Andrew for a split second with nothing but slightly raising the corners of his mouth, no teeth showing. It was fake as fuck and meant to be like that. “Reap the benefits while you can, love.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes. “What benefits? You, sleeping like a rock and waking up as if you’ve never experienced oxygen in your life?” 

“If those are the benefits you see in this situation.” Neil shrugged then became serious. “If you’re truly uncomfortable, then you don’t have to. But I’m telling you that if you want to, you can. I don’t mind. I actually miss sleeping with someone. My mom…” Neil trailed off and blinked towards the doorway. 

Andrew looked backward, but there was nothing there, not even the cats. When he turned back to stare at Neil, he had gone back to his statuesque sleeping position. 

Andrew could only stare at him for a few seconds, baffled. When he recovered enough from how much the conversation had been a… yeah, he reluctantly got his pillow from the ground at the end of the bed and moved it to the top. 

After he ate Renee’s second dinner (Soup. Andrew didn’t even try to figure out what was in it), Andrew got ready for bed and laid down beside Neil, trying not to freak out. 

* * *

Andrew didn’t want to overthink it, but he had learned forever ago that that was the trade-off with his brain. He would never really feel the urge to talk much, be he would think incessantly. Past, present,t and future, what had happened and what hadn’t, possibly to an unhealthy amount. 

Accepting that was how he would live wasn’t hard. The hope was that, someday, he would have a massive breakdown from unvoiced musings, which would lead to his death. 

Lying right there though, with the completely stiff body of his crush by his side, Andrew thought that perhaps he could feel the faint desire to talk, ask many things. But he still forced himself not to do it. Neil was sick and it wasn’t fair to try to extract information from him like that. 

Not because of the questionable morality of it. Only because… what if? What if Andrew didn’t get the answer that he wanted, and hated that he wanted? 

But also… What if he did get the answer he wanted? 

Neil had said he didn’t know if he would remember anything. If Andrew had to accept that he did, unfortunately, desire Neil, and would willingly suffer the consequences of what that entailed, that meant he couldn’t _expect_ so much of Neil’s answer. Especially when Neil was in this state, and might give an answer for something he didn’t want to, or even truly felt. 

Frustration gnawed at Andrew’s bones like a dog. He didn’t know Neil enough to infer what actions in a situation that mirrored his childhood traumas came from Neil, the adult, or Neil, the traumatized child trying to cope. Neil had to have some kind of coping mechanisms to survive so long under the same roof as his abuser. Andrew understood that in a way that made the skin over his knuckles and jaw complain at him. 

There was nothing Andrew could do about anything. Andrew’s desires, Neil’s possible feelings, their nebulous future: they all lived in a suspended reality that would have to wait for Neil’s recovery. 

Andrew could wait. It just meant that he would sleep poorly meanwhile—or so he’d thought. The reality was that Andrew slept soundly, waking up only once to Frock meowing right in his face until Andrew made space for him on his pillow. With Frock curved around his head like a hat that was also a tiny furnace, Andrew turned to look at Neil for a moment. Twat’s tail was swishing over Neil’s cheek, but Neil didn’t seem to feel it. Andrew watched Neil’s chest moving up and down slowly, deeply, and he fell asleep begrudgingly comforted by the rhythmically calming sign that Neil was alive. 

* * *

Andrew slept so well that he missed breakfast the next day. Unfortunately, he didn’t miss the letter that one of Neil’s friends sent, since it was helpfully dropped right on his face by a screeching owl, who flew away as soon as the job was done. Luckily for the owl, Andrew had stopped the movement his hand had been automatically doing on the air with his wand, that was the reason he didn’t have to brush more than a couple of feathers off of his bed. 

It took Andrew a while to move again, as he tried to get a grip on his bearings. When he did move the letter off his face, it took him even longer to open it to read. When he did, it became obvious that someone had finally let it slip that something had happened to Neil. The letter, addressed to Andrew himself, was unnecessarily long full of threats mixed with demands for information. 

For a moment, Andrew considered ignoring it. Then he remembered that Neil’s friends would definitely go apeshit, and might even come around to get the information with their own eyes, which would be unfortunate for their bodily health. Andrew doubted Neil would have liked that scenario when he was back online. 

Sighing, Andrew Summoned the Polaroid camera Nicky had gotten him as a Christmas gift forever ago and took a picture of a sleeping Neil with a Twat hat (Andrew almost snorted at that), putting it together with a short note to Renee that said, _Matthew Boyd wanted this_ , and nothing else. 

Did it give some creepy vibes? Maybe. Andrew was too fucking grumpy to care, though. 

Renee didn’t have to mention it in the short letter she sent alongside Andrew’s lunch (a gigantic combo of things from Burger King, that Andrew knew she must have bought with a frown, but they were still apologetic enough for him) but he knew that she had probably scolded Matthew on Andrew’s behalf. As long as it resulted in Andrew not getting letters from Neil’s whole gang of clowns, he was fucking fine with that. 

Andrew ate his lunch in bed after putting food and water out for the cats. From the empty vial, Andrew knew that Neil had already taken his Sustenance potion. Andrew didn’t let himself spiral, although a part of him really wanted to. So what if he hadn’t woken up when Neil woke up as if he could vacuum the entire supply of oxygen from the room? At least Neil had gotten the fucking potion. 

To clean his thoughts, Andrew took a shower and changed from his pajamas for the first time in days. The cats seemed to tire from playing with him much quicker than yesterday, which was fine. Andrew spent the day watching movies on his phone until he fell into the hole of watching cooking shows. 

Andrew didn’t hate cooking, but he didn’t love it. It was just one of those inconveniences a person had to go through in order to keep themselves alive and not waste too much money on takeout. As he watched, he couldn’t help but feel like Neil would enjoy them. 

Neil had seemed absolutely fascinated by cooking when Andrew had made pizza a few days before. He’d also seemed surprised that people could cook as well as house-elves without magic, which only made Andrew imagine what were the cooking habits of Neil’s friends. 

It took him a while to notice he wasn’t watching his screen anymore, and an even longer period to notice that he was staring at Neil, who stared right back. 

Oh. Maybe Andrew didn’t wake up with Neil’s wheezed wake-up call because he wasn’t doing it anymore? 

“Good morning,” Neil croaked. 

“Good evening,” Andrew corrected and they fell into a comfortable silence. Andrew didn’t want to be the first one to break it, especially since there was a knot in his throat that twisted every single word he could say right then. 

“I really like our silences,” Neil told Andrew, looking away from him. “I grew up knowing that being silent was one of the only things I could use to make myself safe, and it didn’t work every time. Your silence, though, it's… soothing. I like our banter, but I like this part of you too.” 

“The fact that you grew up not being a purist asshole is admirable,” Andrew told Neil in exchange, which made him laugh. Andrew’s brain almost went into overdrive trying to take many snapshots of the moment. It was piteous. “Especially after your childhood.” 

“Don’t you mean our childhood?” 

“Are you implying that I’m not an asshole?” 

“Hm… when you put it that way…” Neil’s laugh graced them with its presence again, and Andrew would feel disgusted at himself if he wasn’t busy having a tiny crisis. “But no. I’m just glad we’re… fine, I guess.” 

Like two porcelain creatures, Andrew and Neil nodded to each other, recognizing their resilience despite the many downfalls that should have brought them to pieces. With his part of the Bond done, Neil’s eyes started to fall shut and Andrew watched as Neil tried to fight it off. Exasperated, Andrew wanted to ask if there was anything that Neil did without fighting. 

He very much doubted such a thing existed. 

“Sleep, Neil.” 

“I’m not being entertaining, though,” Neil protested with a yawn. “That’s a failure of me as a guest.” 

Andrew raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Eventually, Neil finally fully closed his eyes. Andrew automatically took the moment to send a message to Renee, but his mind was spinning with their convos. When they weren’t antagonizing each other, they worked. Well. Andrew could see all the places their lives could slot together almost seamlessly, which made it hard not to dream. 

Hard, but also not _natural_. Not anymore. Andrew had gotten rid of that thing that made kids wish for things, even after he discovered a whole world of magic. 

Andrew looked at Neil. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad to dream, this time around. Andrew was almost 30 years old, so he could probably deal with whatever Neil threw at him, even if he was such a handful. 

As he ate his dinner, Andrew pondered about the wonder of how Neil made him want to dream for things again. Maybe it was foolish of Andrew to fall into such traps again, but… Neil made dreaming feel harmless. 

Maybe it could be. 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Thank you for reading this au! I’ll be forever grateful for everybody who read the first installment and was vocal about wanting the missing scene 🥺  
>   
> my tumblr is [polzkadotz](http://polzkadotz.tumblr.com) and my twitter is [polzka_dotz](http://twitter.com/polzka_dotz). Come chat with me about anything!  
> 


End file.
